


Keep It Hidden

by AuthorAlex97 (Sweetie_Curfy)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Background Dark Sides (Sanders Sides), Fever, Gen, Pre-Episode: Accepting Anxiety, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22946482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetie_Curfy/pseuds/AuthorAlex97
Summary: Virgil caught his least favorite illness of them all (if one could have such a thing)—the stomach flu. The last thing he wants is for the others to find out.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 285





	Keep It Hidden

Virgil had known this day would come eventually, but now that it was actually here, it _sucked._

Getting sick was far from a rare occurrence for him. When Thomas got a little too nervous, or got jumpscared one too many times in a day, Virgil’s immune system would go to shit and he’d be left as some sort of feverish mess. He’d had what felt like every type of illness under the sun over the years—colds, flus, sinus infections, ear infections, chicken pox, and so, so many more.

His normal routine was to lay on the couch and watch cartoons until whatever bug he had this time passed. He’d cover his head with blankets whenever Remus ran by, screaming about butts, and he’d hiss at Deceit until he got the message that he wanted to be alone. And with the other guy, he’d…

Well. Virgil didn’t want to think about what he’d had to do to get _him_ away.

It wasn’t a fun system, but it got him better way faster than if he stayed cooped up in his bedroom, for some reason. He liked to think it had something to do with the cartoons, or maybe just being away from the germs that got him sick in the first place.

And then the Dark Sides kicked him out, and he got stuck with the Light Sides that _despised_ him, and he’d caught his _least_ favorite illness of them all (if one could have such a thing)—the stomach flu.

And it _sucked._

For the last six hours, Virgil had been curled up on the bathroom floor, throwing up what felt like everything he’d ever eaten in the last three years until there was nothing but bile. Every gag and retch at this point felt like someone was trying for force a rock up his esophagus. Between cycles, he would lay down and press his throbbing head against the cool tiles below, but it never lasted long before being sideways took its toll on his stomach and he was retching over the toilet again.

The only thing he could be grateful for was that it had started in the early hours of the morning. The _last_ thing he wanted was for the Lights to see him like this. But he knew his luck was running out, and he needed to get back to his room before—

“Anxiety!” _Bam, bam, bam!_ “Hurry up in there! I need to make myself beautiful for the day!”

Virgil choked back a groan, pushing himself off the floor as he glared at the door. “It’s a bathroom, Princey, not a miracle store,” he snapped.

He heard Roman gasp. “How _dare_ you! I got a full ten hours of beauty sleep last night; I just need to touch myself up!”

His eyes fluttered shut at the mention of sleep, but he did his best to stay awake enough to make his voice sound normal. “Have you tried 24?”

Another noise of offense sailed through the door, followed by footsteps storming away. As soon as Virgil heard them going down the stairs, he moved as quickly as he could handle to get up and clean the bathroom. He then rushed down the hall to get to his bedroom, shutting the door just as Patton was coming up.

Legs trembling, Virgil slid down the door and breathed as evenly as he could.

_Knock, knock._ “Anxiety?”

This time, he didn’t hold his groan. “What?”

“Breakfast is almost ready!” Patton said. “I made some eggs, and Logan’s making his special waffles! You do _not_ want to miss out on this!”

Just the thought of food made him wish he’d never left the bathroom. He squeezed his stomach. “I’m not hungry. Eat without me.”

There was a pause. “Are you sure? You shouldn’t skip meals like this, kiddo…”

“Positive.” Virgil’s stomach twisted again, and he swallowed thickly, panic welling up inside him “Leave me alone.”

“But Anxiety—”

“Go _away_!”

A moment passed, and then Patton let out a breath. “Okay,” he softly said. “Just… Please come down for lunch, at least?”

“I’m not making any promises,” Virgil grunted. He carefully pushed himself to his feet, and as footsteps slowly disappeared down the hall, he slowly lowered himself back into bed.

Bundling himself up in as many blankets as he could, Virgil shut his eyes and forced himself to try to get some sleep.

* * *

He was awoken a few hours later by another knock on the door. “Anxiety?”

Virgil sat straight up, looking towards the source of the sound as his brain struggled to differentiate reality and his fever dream. “Whu… Huh?”

“Patton has asked me to notify you that lunch is ready,” Logan stated. “He was very adamant that you attend, and I can’t say I feel much different. Skipping meals, especially breakfast, is extremely unhealthy.”

Scrubbing at his eyes, Virgil let out a moan. “I’ll be down in a minute…,” he muttered.

“Excellent. I will see you momentarily.”

“Mm-hm…”

Virgil hardly heard the footsteps walk away as he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. It was so nice and warm here in bed… So easy to fall back asleep…

* * *

The next time he woke up, it was to a sharp twist in his stomach.

His eyes shot open to see a dim room and an orange sky; he remembered with a start what he’d last been doing, and would have let out a curse had he not been breathing heavily, trying to force the nausea away as soon as he could. He balled up his fist and held it in front of his trembling mouth. He did _not_ want to be sick again.

His body, however, seemed to have other plans.

Virgil shuffled out of bed and towards the door as fast as he could. He wrapped a loose arm around his stomach as soon as he was on his feet. Knowing the others were probably around, he did his best to be silent opening his door.

Another door opened down the hall. Virgil looked over in time to make eye contact with Roman as he stepped into the hall.

They glared.

“Well, it looks like _someone_ was projecting this morning,” Roman sneered.

Virgil huffed out a shaky breath before stumbling towards the bathroom. “Shut up, Princey,” he wheezed.

“Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can’t take it, huh?”

He shut the door and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet.

“Real mature, Sir Ector de Morbid!”

Virgil retched.

The first heave took out any bile remaining in his stomach from that morning, and then all he could do was dry heave until his body decided to stop. His abs ached like there was no tomorrow; his lungs burned as he struggled to get air between cycles. Snot and tears dribbled down his face and landed in the water below.

“Uh… Patton?” Roman’s voice yelled from outside.

An agonizing minute or two later, the door burst open, and a gasp echoed between the tiled walls.

“Oh, Anxiety…!”

One hand rested between his shoulder blades while another slipped into his hair, each rubbing soothing circles. Virgil tried to shake them off, but with his head still in the toilet, found it very hard to do so.

(Not that he really _wanted_ to, anyway—it was… strangely comforting.)

When his stomach finally gave him the chance to breathe, Virgil slumped against the seat and panted. His head spun like the tilt-a-whirl at the county fair, and his eyelids felt as heavy as the ride itself. It would be so easy to just… take a little nap…

The hands removed themselves from his body, and Virgil had to choke back a whine. They weren’t gone for long, though; a second later, they rested on his shoulders and sat him up before carefully settling him back against the tub.

He cracked his eyes open to watch as Patton rested a hand on his forehead. Behind him, Logan was filling a paper cup with water at the sink. Roman hovered in the hall just outside the door.

“I didn’t…” Virgil tried to swallow. “Di’n mean to miss lunch,” he breathed.

“Shh, it’s okay, Anxiety,” Patton whispered. “You’re running a bit of a fever… Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well?”

Virgil whined. “Didn’t wanna.”

Logan crouched and held out the water. “Drink this. You need to stay hydrated.”

Virgil tried to take it, but his hands were trembling so much that he nearly dropped it as soon as he had to support its weight; Logan and Patton were quick to catch it and help guide it to his lips, where he practically began to pour it down his throat.

“Easy, easy…”

They pulled back after a moment, and Virgil drooped, leaning his head against the wall. He let out a moan and wrapped his arms around his stomach. Patton placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed little circles with his thumb before looking at Logan.

“What do you think it is?” he asked.

Logan inspected Virgil’s face with a frown. “Well, it appears his symptoms include vomiting, nausea, stomach cramps, and a fever, so I suspect it’s—”

“Stomach flu,” Virgil mumbled.

“Viral gastroenteritis, yes.”

Roman leaned against the doorway. “Were you ill this morning?”

Virgil shut his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“Is that why you were taking so long in the bathroom?”

“Uh-huh.”

Patton looked at him. “When did this start up, kiddo?”

He swallowed thickly, then let out a whimper when a cramp rolled through his stomach again. “Woke up at like… 1:30…?”

“Oh, Anxiety…” Patton pressed his hand to his cheek and frowned. “Why don’t we set you up on the couch for tonight? I know you don’t like staying outside your room for too long, but I really want to keep an eye on you until you’re feeling better. We can watch whatever you want, if you’re up for it.”

Virgil opened his eyes to look at Patton; the father figure offered a gentle smile, despite his brow still being furrowed. His eyes flicked to Logan, who had a similar concerned gaze, and then to Roman, who refused to look his way. A pit settled in his stomach as he looked back to Patton.

“Is it gonna bother anyone if I’m out there…?” he whispered.

Patton shook his head. “No, honey. It’s okay. You’re allowed to be in the living room, sick or not. Okay?”

Tears threatened to form in Virgil’s eyes, but he forced them back. He sniffled and wiped at his nose.

“…Can we watch Billy and Mandy?”

* * *

A few minutes later, Virgil lay on the couch, head in Patton’s lap, washrag on his forehead, and a blanket wrapped tight around his shivering body. A garbage can sat just in front of him, and _the Grimm Adventures of Billy and Mandy_ played on the TV. Logan and Roman sat on the other side of the couch.

Patton was running his fingers through Virgil’s sweaty hair. Virgil tried to keep watching the show, but his eyes kept fluttering shut. Eventually, Patton leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Go to sleep, Anxiety,” he whispered. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

He was too tired to say no.


End file.
